


Mixing Colors

by bitterglitter



Category: Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Alec Lightwood-centric, Angst with a Happy Ending, Artist Alec, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, M/M, One-Sided Alec Lightwood/Jace Wayland, Sibling Bonding, Universe Alteration, for like five seconds - Freeform, so much sibling bonding
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-21
Updated: 2016-09-21
Packaged: 2018-08-15 20:50:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,638
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8072302
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bitterglitter/pseuds/bitterglitter
Summary: It started as a one time thing, something to appease his baby sister for the night. Now Alec paints all the time, using it as almost a comfort in his hectic life and a way to express everything he bottles up, keeping it a secret from everyone but his siblings. Also known as: a friend asked what would change about canon if Alec paints like Clary does





	

Light footsteps patter against hard Institute floors, echoing in the silence of the hall born from curfew. Darkness shines in through windows and anyone under the age of twelve has been sent to bed, doors lock and bodies hidden under blankets. Alec can almost picture how uniform it much all look from above. 

It makes his stomach sick to know he's breaking that unity. 

But he had seen his sister before his mother sent them to bed. The glint in her eyes, eyes much too wide and knowing for her age. He can recognize that look a smile way, even if he's not sure if his parents can themselves yet. 

Isabelle's small footsteps continue down the hall. Alec can hear it form the small opening he's left in his door, anticipating he'd be getting a visit from his baby sister tonight. As if on cue the footsteps stop and a knock so light it hardly pushes the door in jolts Alec out of his worries. 

"Come in." He keeps his voice soft, only slightly paranoid that his parents are listening. That someone is waiting in his closet to jump out and punish him for still being awake at this hour. For letting his sister be awake at this hour. 

The door slightly opens and Isabelle slips in. She's able to move too quick, too quiet for her age. It'll do her good later, when she learns she has to move like that all the time. Alec is just learning this. It seems Isabelle is already better at it than him. He doesn't pay that mind, though, as he watches her step into his room. Instead he thinks of the fondness he feels for her, and perhaps the exasperation at her antics this late at night. Mainly fondness. 

Isabelle's expression is determined, a smooth hard plane of expression that would look out of place on any other four-year-old, if she weren't a Lightwood. Behind her, in a loose ponytail, is a wild mane of curls, almost ruining the intensity in her eyes. Her hands give her away though, clutching thin sheets of paper much too tight and running her thumb up and down her crayons, staining her skin. 

"What is it, Izzy?" Alec asks, keeping his tone soft. He's sitting on the floor, back pressed against the side of his bed. This is the closets they usually get to eye level. 

She holds up the paper and crayons in front of her as an explanation. When Alec doesn't respond her lower lip juts out into a pout. "Color with me." 

"Izzy." Alec sighs her name. She's been trying to get him to do this for almost two weeks, even though his answer is always the same. No. Every time he has said no has killed him inside, especially when he sees the disappointment on her face, but Mother was very clear. Now that Alec is six he doesn't have time for these kind of things; he's too old to do childish things like coloring.

He wonders how long Izzy has left to color.

"It's bedtime. You have to go to bed." He says instead of the usual "no" or "I can't". He's not used to saying no to Isabelle. It might just actually kill him.

Isabelle shakes her head, curls acting against gravity and flaring up behind her. She shoves the paper and colors out towards Alec harder, as if doing so will convince him. "It's coloring time." 

"No, it isn't. You know what Mother said-"

"I  _do."_ She cuts him off, pout gone and lips pressed tightly together. It's an expression he has only seen on their mother before. 

Instantly, Alec understands that they're talking about two different events. For a brief second he's no longer on the floor in his bedroom with his little sister. It's two hours ago and he's on the floor of the training room. His back is pressed against the mat on the floor, sweat molding his skin to the material, his right arm throbbing in pain. His torso is covered with quickly darkening bruises. His training partner has already turned away, apparently finished as Alec isn't sure if he can even get up again. 

In front of his face appear perfectly polished black high heels. With a gulp he looks up at the towering figure of his mother. He can't see her expression anymore. Hours later her words still echo in his head, tone filled with anger and disappointment, spitting acid down on him.  _"Honestly, Alec. You're a Lightwood, and we expect you to fight like one. How do you expect to ever win with a form like that? I had hoped to see better from you."_

Alec sucks in a breath and suddenly he's back. He lets it out slowly and shaky before looking back to Isabelle. His arm still aches. He's not sure how long he takes to think of an answer, it feels like hours. Anyone else would be yelling at him to spit it out, but not Isabelle. Never Isabelle. "I didn't- that-. That's none of your concern." 

Stubborn as the rest of the Lightwoods, Isabelle shakes her head again. She starts walking closer, still holding out her supplies. "Coloring makes me feel better. It'll make you feel better. So we gotta color." 

"Isabelle-"

"Please?" She's much closer, so close that Alec can see different specks of brown in her eyes. It's especially bad as she pulls out her puppy dog eyes. "For me?" 

And Alec is gone. It's honestly ridiculous how well a four-year-old can play him. 

"Fine. But!" He's quick to add when Isabelle's face lights up. "Only one drawing. And then you go right back to bed before Mother finds out you snuck out." 

"Mother never finds out." Isabelle's smile is sweet even as her words are not. Alec feels a burst of pride in his chest, unsure what it's doing there. 

She drops the papers onto the floor, letting them float down and slide across the floor in all directions Any complaint he gives about the mess is ignored as she plops down next to him, snuggling herself against his side, and places her crayons in front of them. She's quick to grab her own piece of paper and start scribbling. Alec is much slower as he grabs the nearest piece of paper and pink crayon. 

Just one drawing, he tells himself. 

 

 

"Come on! It's a perfect plan!" 

"No, it isn't! We're gonna get caught and then-"

"And then nothing cause we're not going to get caught. Come on, Alec, have some faith." 

Jace's grin is wide and cocky in the low light of early morning. A thin layer of fog has settled around them next to the graveyard, but Alec's not shaking because of the temperature drop. He eyes the large white canvas currently propped up against the outside Institute wall. 

_He knew it was a bad idea. He knew it was too big and wasn't going to work. Why couldn't he just suck it up and stuck with smaller canvases instead? Who cares if they were starting to get too small? At least he was able to sneak them in without all this-_

"Hey." Jace reaches up to cup his hand against the side of Alec's neck, bringing him back into the moment. His heart jumps, he prays Jace can't feel it in his pulse. "No one will know. Trust your Parabatai." 

Alec rolls his eyes so hard they almost slip back into his head. Pulling out the Parabatai card again. Not that Alec  _really_ minds, it's just that Jace has slowly been doing it more and more since they were bonded three years ago. Though, he is pretty glad that Jace only really uses it for teasing Alec during matters like this. Like sneaking a canvas into the Institute so their Mother and Father won't see it. 

" _And_ your sister." They jolt at Isabelle's voice and look up to where she's opened the window. Alec feels a brief flash of panic -- how didn't they notice her? -- before forming himself back into some semblance of calm. One freak out at a time. Isabelle grins down at them, giving Jace a once over. "Mostly your sister." 

"Hey!" 

"Kidding, kidding." Isabelle holds up her hands in a gesture of peace, but she's still grinning. "I don't think Dad's gotten up yet and I know Mom is in her office. The coast is all clear; hand 'er up!" 

"Are you sure it'll even fit in the closet?" Alec asks as he and Jace pick up the canvas. Carefully they lift it, angling it to fit into the window without it tearing. "I mean, we haven't tried to hide on this big before-" 

"In Jace's closet? No way in hell." Isabelle smirks as she takes hold of the top of the canvas and starts pulling. No doubt she's remembering the argument she and Jace had about it just a few days prior. "But my closet is more than big enough. I'll even hide it behind some of my longer dresses just to make you feel better. Stop worrying so much, big bro. Your hair's gonna go grey early." 

"Har har har." Alec rolls his eyes, keeping his tone painfully dull. He does his best to bat Jace's hand away, which has come up to ruffle Alec's hair, without dropping the canvas. He didn't save up his money for four months, sneak out of the Institute in the dead of night, and made his way through New York with no one spotting him just to ruin this with a little dirt. 

They do manage to get the canvas in with no damage. It takes five minutes longer than it should for Jace and him to get to Isabelle's room, but Alec is extra paranoid and Jace knows better than to rush him. When they do finally get into the safety of Isabelle's room, Alec lets himself finally relax for the first time in hours. Maybe Isabelle is right about him getting grey hairs early.

Ironic since it's likely he's not going to live long enough to get them naturally. 

That's a morbid fucking thought, especially for this early. He should really stop trying to think before eight am. 

Isabelle's already almost done rearranging the clothes in her closet to hide the canvas. Alec glances over her should to try to find it, but even as he knows exactly what it looks like he can't seem to spot it. He lets out a sigh of relief, wondering why he hadn't automatically trusted Isabelle and Jace's reassurances. 

"How's that look, big brother?" Isabelle takes a step back, letting go of one of her longer dresses. A light fabric stained dark red. He's not sure he's ever seen her wear it, assuming it's most likely Mother bought it. A part of him thanks her before remembering it's her they're hiding it from. 

"Perfect. Thanks, Izzy." He lets himself smile, warmth igniting in his chest at how her face lights up. 

"Hey, no thanks for me? That's cool, that's cool. You know, not like I helped you get you save up your money or found the store for you. Whatever, man, I get it." Jace takes a few steps back, shrugging as he does so. There's a look of hurt on his face that's quickly being ruined by the amusement in his eyes. 

Alec shakes his head, thinking to himself in the most loving way possible,  _drama queen._ "I guess if you're fine with it, then I don't have to thank you." He shrugs back, voice flat, but his lips are starting to twitch back into the hint of a smile. "Seriously, though. Thanks, guys." 

"Yeah, well, good luck sneaking your paints in here." Jace throws an arm around Alec's shoulders, pressing himself against his side. Suddenly he has the desperate urge to paint with yellow and blue and brown. Swirls to match his eyes and sweeping lines to match his hair, blending together into a heartache. 

"Yeah. Right." Alec smiles weakly back at him. Isabelle is watching them, he can practically feel gaze. The knowing look in her eyes. 

Suddenly, Isabelle reaches out and starts pushing the two of them backwards. Jace stumbles into Alec as she shoves them, his heart jumping into his throat, silencing his complaints. 

The same is not to be said of Jace. "Hey!" he cries, indignantly. His hand flies up and grabs Alec's shoulder, gripping the fabric for balance as they stumble. They almost end up crashing into the door together. "Izzy! What the hell?!" 

"I don't need my room exposed to all this sappy Parabatai bond stuff." Isabelle offers as explanation once they're out her door. "It  _already_ smells like demon blood and sweat from patching you two up yesterday. Go do this in your own rooms." 

Alec pretends his blush is him being flustered from being pushed out the door. Jace, in return, lets his shocked expression melt into a smirk. "Jealous much?"

"Annoyed much," Isabelle corrects before slamming the door.

"Rude," Jace huffs. His eyes narrow in a glare at the door, as if blaming it. 

Alec's lips twitch up into a weak smile even though he's about seventy-five precent sure he's dying now. "To be fair, we did wake her up super early." 

"Only cause she  _volunteered,_ dear brother." Now that Jace is smirking at him, Alec is eight-nine precent sure he's dying. "Speaking of getting up early, I'm gonna go try to get a few more hours of sleep before morning training. See you there?" 

He quickly nods, trying to remember a time when he didn't show up. Nothing comes to mind. "Of course. Thanks again, Jace. For- for everything." 

Jace reaches out to gently hit Alec's shoulder. "No problem. Next time, though, we're hiding it in my room. It'll give me an excuse to see your painting before you finished." 

"I knew that was the only reason you offered." 

Jace laughs, offers a final goodbye, and turns to return to his room. Alec's rooted in his spot, watching Jace walk away, unblinking until Jace turns the corner and he snaps back into reality. His feet haven't sunken into the floor like it perviously felt.  _Yep,_ he thinks in a moment of hysterics,  _defiantly dying._

The walk to his room is much too short, his legs taking him as fast as his heart beats. It feels like one moment he's outside Isabelle's room and the next he's face down in his comforter, wondering where it all went wrong. His room smells faintly of acrylics from yesterday morning, brining the only small comfort he'd allow himself in the moment. He doesn't deserve anything else. He knows this, knows he should be drowning in this guilt, this bitter feeling that seems to take up most of him. 

He lies there, unable to fall asleep like he wishes he could, until the tips of his fingers start to itch. With a defeated groan, he accepts how he'll be spending the rest of his morning. It's not like painting is a bad thing. If it was he wouldn't even bother doing it, but he'd much rather get some sleep like Isabelle and Jace. 

Jace is going to kick his ass during warm ups because he'll be falling half asleep. Alec accepts this as he reaches under his bed and pulls out an old shoebox. 

He's seen big boxes and fancy containers made for holding paints, colored pencils, or anything else he could ever want or need. This is not that. This is his shoebox from a few years ago that used to hold his current pair of shoes. In it he hides all his paints, brushes, pencils, and erasers. It's safely tucked away under his bed, as close to the wall as possible. Sometimes, in bouts of worry, he shoves ruined hoodies and clothes he'll never wear under there to completely hide it, just in case. 

It wasn't Isabelle's intention for one night of coloring until morning (well, Alec colored to morning, Isabelle fell asleep pressed against his side) to turn into years of art. Alec isn't even sure why it clicked so fast, so easily, it's certainly not something he'd ever imagine himself doing. Then again, he wasn't allowed to imagine much beyond him fighting. 

He's sure his mother would lose her mind if she knew about this secret, raving about how it was obviously taking away from important things he could be doing to benefit the clave. 

Alec isn't a rebel. He hates breaking the rules. But his is something he can let slide. 

He does so in good conscious, because it's one of the rare things that calms him down. It keeps him level headed, and isn't that what his mother wants? For him to be a good, calm leader? So what if this is the path? 

Plus, he's been told it makes him happy. He's not sure if he completely believes that -- if he'll let himself believe it -- but he is sure that whenever he shows his siblings a new painting  _they_ look happy. Isn't that what really matters? 

 _Yes,_ Alec answers his own question as he reaches behind his bedside table to pull out one of his smaller canvases. He has many of this size, finding they're easiest to sneak in. Small portraits, landscapes, and abstract images fill them. Some portraits get shoved to the back of the closet, stinging his fingertips when he touches them. Others are given away, hidden in rooms of those closest to him where they are safe. He keeps his landscapes closer to the front of the closet, covering abstract images that mean nothing because if he can see meaning he can see purpose and has an excuse against the guilt in his chest. 

One his new canvas he starts with a green landscape, slowly turning into a grey mist of a graveyard. Two lone figures appear, one radiating gold and the other a light silver. The sun approaches in his window. 

 

 

He's beautiful. 

He's a mix of golden and blue and black. Painted in only three perfect colors. Vibrant despite the dim colors surrounding him. He moves in a grace that can't be captured in a single frame, constantly flowing like water down a stream. 

Alec wants to paint him. 

He isn't sure he can. Seeing pictures of Magnus Bane and experiencing Magnus Bane are two totally different experiences. So different that Alec feels off balance, like somehow he'd been lied to during the mission briefing, or had missed something. While Magnus' beauty was evident in the pictures Hodge showed them, it's so different close. His smiles makes Alec's chest clench and his voice sounds better than any music he's ever had the luxury to listen to. 

Alec can't stop staring. He knows he should. His eyes roam over Magnus, the lines and patterns that make up a beauty Alec has never experienced before. From the moment Magnus had walked up to him his hands itched to sketch, color, the man in front of him. As if to capture a small bit of him for himself forever. 

He watches the way Magnus' shoulders sway as he leads them to the exit, still unbelievably calm and graceful given the events of the evening. He can't help but remember the warmth his hand brought during the demon summoning. He can still feel it. 

Alec's sure he can't paint this beautiful man. He's almost sure no one can. Something about him is impossible to capture. 

His hands twitch. Whether with the want to start sketching or with the want for Magnus' hand in his again he isn't sure. 

Magnus gives him another smile before they leave. A soft, gentle, private one that makes Alec's face light up bright pink. One that causes his pace out the door to speed up even as it makes his feet feel more and more like lead. It feels like a secret has been shared between them, one Alec isn't in on. 

Hours later in the safe cover of darkness he attempts o recreate that smile, an unsuccessful as he thought it would be. There's always something... wrong. 

His expression isn't gentle enough, but then it is and Alec finds his posture is too tight. But then it's loose and Alec finds the light in his eyes isn't quite right. 

Alec isn't sure when night turns into morning, but he does know that he's used up at least ten pages of his brand new sketchbook with Magnus. All different angles and poses, all from memory, and all not  _quite_ right. Alec had even broken out his favorite colored pencils. Thinking of adding that golden flare, the black and blue he remembers, would fix whatever mistakes he can see. 

But still, something's not right. It's not enough.

Alec's stomach flips when he realizes how much space he's allowed Magnus to take up, and frustration at his failed attempts turns into guilt. A familiar feeling directed at an unfamiliar person. Blonde hair and mismatched eyes no longer bring a bitter taste to his tongue, but tall black hair and warm brown eyes. 

He shoves this sketchbook far under his bed, farther than all the others. It was a one time meeting, never to happen again. So it's silly for Alec to be drawing him like this. To be determined like this, after only one small meeting. 

He doesn't think about drawing Magnus for as long as possible. 

He leaves training early at the end of the day to try drawing him again. 

Soon Magnus takes up too much space. Ten pages is nothing, and it just gets worse and worse after each meeting. He sketches their hands, pressed together or holding drinks, trying to remember how each individual ring looked. Their color and shade and feeling against Alec's skin. He draws Magnus' hands surrounded by blue flames, symbols of wards surrounding them. Magnus's different outfits, returning to black and blue to gold and red. 

Only once does Alec draw the look in Magnus' eyes after telling him he's getting married. He then rips out the page, crumples it, and stuffs it under his pillow before throwing his book across the room. 

He has a canvas stuffed behind his dresser of a lone figure, standing in a field of golden and blue fire. They have no face, facing away from their audience and instead into the flames. Alec pretends not to know who's he painted. 

Alec brings out that painting and stares at it the night before his wedding, getting lost in gold and blue. 

 

 

After they kiss, Alec wonders what colors would make up their painting; black and gold from Alec while Magnus radiates dark velvet and bright magenta, capturing a beauty that's never surrounded him until that moment. 

 

 

Alec's stomach plummets to his feet. He feels like he's going to be sick, only he hasn't had anything to eat today. Stress had eaten up his appetite, and now he's not sure if he's thankful or regretful. 

He's standing in a sea of colors. Blues and red stretch as far as he can see, yellows stare at him, greens are shredded to the size of grass blades, purples and oranges glide across the floor on a breeze from his open door. Faces and places are broken apart, split and mixed until they don't make sense. It's a mess. Chaos. All layered across his floor, like a badly put together collage. 

His Parabatai bond burns -- not for the first time today -- and now he's sure he's going to throw up.

Alec isn't aware when his knees hit the grown, he barely acknowledges the jolt of pain it brings. For the second time his world crumbles. Static has overtaken his brain -- loud, overwhelming, and grey. It's just like when he talks, he can't get enough words together to make a thought. It's all scattered, scattered like the little pieces of paper he looks out upon.

He can remember his mother's eyes. How they had burned with a rage he isn't sure he's ever seen until just hours earlier. How her fury hadn't cooled, not even when his father reluctantly accepted the events of the day. He can still see her anger as he pulled away from Magnus' lips. 

She had told him how he ruined this family, yet he never thought she'd go this far. 

Hell, until now he didn't think she even knew. His hobby of painting had been kept a secret for a good reason, he'd worked so hard to keep it for so long, but it seems like it wasn't a very well kept one. 

Taking a closer look at the mess, his chest turns icy when he realizes these don't just look like the paintings he keeps in here. He doesn't know how she could have found the one in Jace and Isabelle's rooms. He isn't sure when she did. But he's sure they're just as ruined as all the others he can see. 

This isn't senseless destruction, he realizes in his grey static. A reaction to blind rage. Each painting is torn up so small that it would be impossible to put them back together. If they weren't so unevenly broken he'd think that she somehow stuffed all his canvases in a shredder. 

What happens next might itself be blind rage. Alec doesn't know when it's over, but he knows it was blind. He tears his room apart, every single hiding spot he can remember and even ones he doesn't know if he thought of -- he's too panicked to remember. Even his unused ones are gone, destroyed. His paints are missing, shoebox as torn as the canvases. 

Alec wants to cry. Alec _is_ crying, he just hadn't realized until now. 

Hot tears run down his face and his throat stings with the need to scream, to yell out, to sob, but nothing comes. Instead he mutely raises a hand to his mouth, sinking down next to his bed where ehe and Isabelle sat al those years ago, letting the static sink into him. 

Part of him knows he should be angry. Beyond angry with his mother. He doesn't deserve this, and he thinks he deserves a lot, but  _not this._ But the anger just... doesn't come. He just cries. 

Silent and painful as the sky outside passes with time.

Bright light has just started stinging his eyes. Wild red can be seen out of the corner of his eyes, he doesn't even have to tilt his head to see who it is. What's Clary doing here, though? A small part of him wonders, possibly the only part of him self that can wonder at the moment. Shouldn't she be with her now awake mother?

She's saying something. He can tell because the rom suddenly sounds quieter and it isn't like Alec was making any noise. He forces himself to push past the cotton in his ears to listen.

"... Alec?" Clary's voice is soft, impossibly soft, why is it so _soft?_ "Alec?" She repeats, raising her voice only slightly. He must look awful if this is how she's acting. "What is all this? What happened?" 

Alec opens his mouth. Nothing comes out. He closes it again and clears his throat, it feels like something is tearing it open. He tries again. "Moth- my mother. She happened." His voice is quiet and scratch, it aches using it. 

Something must really be off, something beyond what Alec already knows what's wrong with him, because Clary takes a step back. "I'll- I'll be right back." 

She turns on her heel, red swirling into the air around her as she spins, and she's gone. Alec doesn't like Clary. Alec didn't like Clary from the start and he still doesn't. But a strong sense of something crashes over him as she leaves. The word loneliness comes to mind, he rejects it. His vision blurs. 

Without thinking his hand reaches out, carefully picking up a scrap of a painting. It's colored a soft green and Alec wishes he could tell which it belonged to. What the painting looked like. 

The realization that he doesn't remember what all his paintings looked like hits him harder than realizing his mother is at the center of all of this. He can't remember. It'd be impossible to picture them all, and a worse task to try to repaint them. Even his sketchbooks, pages upon pages filled with years of memories; all gone. 

HIs hand clenches around the paper, wrinkling it, and Alec just feels sick. 

Heels against polished floors ring in Alec's ears. Years ago they were bare feet, now they cause him to flinch with each click. He ducks his head as Isabelle comes into view, her soft gasp sounds like a scream. She sees it too. Years wasted, all laid out in front of them. An unforeseen consequence to the best choice of his life. 

He should've known she'd find a way to ruin it. 

"Alec..." Isabelle breaths out his name, eyes dancing over the chaos in his room. She leans closer to Clary for a brief second before walking into the room. It takes only three large strides before she's crouching down next to Alec, wrapping one arm around her shoulders and using the other to pull him down, closer. 

Finally,  _finally,_ a soft sob bubbles up out of Alec's throat as he leans down and buries his face in the space between Isabelle's neck and shoulder. It's so quiet, he isn't even sure he hears it, but it's like a dam breaking. One after another follow until it's an endless stream and his shoulders shake so hard he's afraid he'll physically fall apart. He must be staining her shirt with tears, but neither seem to really care as Alec tries to pull her impossibly closer. 

His whole body flinches when he feels another arm wrap around him from the opposite side. A light touch not sure if it should be there or not. Alec pulls himself away just enough to peek over, in watery vision he can see red hair and an uncertain expression. 

They're still not friends, but Alec appreciates the sentiment all the same. 

Alec allows himself to lean into their touch, into their comfort, even if a small, warped part of him believes he deserves this. He doesn't. But he does. 

 _Lightwoods break noses and accept the consequences._ The words sounded powerful in his mother's voice, something to be proud of. Now Alec can taste the poisonous edges on each syllable. Later he'll convince himself once more they're powerful, but for the moment they're as bitter as the glare his mother sent him hours earlier. 

Slowly, so slowly he winds down. No longer a fast paced current, his sobs steadily slow until it feels like hours between each one, and then finally to silence. He keeps his pressed into Isabelle's shoulder, not yet ready to face the reality that surrounds them. She doesn't say anything, just keeps rubbing comforting, small circles into his back. A constant motion to distract from the fact that he isn't the only one shaking. 

With a sniffle he allows himself to pull away. He's not yet ready to look back at his room, at the mess he'll have to clean up eventually, so he keeps his eyes trained on his sister. Her own face is wet with tears, streaks black from mascara. 

She looks so  _tired._ He's seen the expression on her face a million times on his own, but he's spent years trying to keep it off hers. Most of her makeup is smudged, something so rare he hasn't seen it since she was just learning how to do makeup. Dark circles peek out under her eyes and her eye makeup is smeared across her lids from rubbing them. 

Whatever is left of his heart at the moment breaks, his shoulders slump in a final defeat he didn't know he could feel. 

"I'm sorry." His voice croaks, torn apart from crying so hard. 

Isabelle halfheartedly rolls her eyes, hand moving form his back to brush his bangs away from his forehead. He knows she'll scold him later for apologizing for what isn't his fault. 

They sit like that, in a calming silence, as the sun reaches the top of the sky. 

 

 

"Okay, but I  _could_ do it. I just need to find Magnus." 

"You're going to get arrested," Alec groans, trying to be heard over Isabelle's enthusiastic yell of approval. "And we won't be able to get you out."  

"I'm not going to get arrested." Clary scoffs, looking far too confident for what she's about to do. "I'll be there and back before she knows what hit her."

Alec isn't sure if he's flattered, annoyed, or just fed up with the past few weeks in general. " _You'll_ be what hit her and my mother will know and send in Clave members to arrest you. You're not exactly hard to identify." He looks pointedly at her bright red hair. Honestly, they could shove her in the middle of a street and it would stop traffic. 

Isabelle strides forward, linking arms with Clary as they walk and pressing up against her. "He's got a point," she says mournfully. A hand reaches up to twirl a red curl around her finger. "As much as I hate to suggest it; you could try covering up? And we'll cover for you, so it'll be her word against a group of us here." 

"You're supposed to be on my side, Izzy." He sounds much too whiney for his usual tone, but he can't be bothered to care. This is something that could honestly get them arrested, and they've already been down that path. He doubts Magnus would be up for advocating for them again. Would Magnus even be able to do that if he's the one to open the portal? "You know what? This doesn't even matter, because Magnus isn't going to portal you there. And without any other way to get there..." 

"What makes you say he won't?" Clary challenges, a familiar gleam in her eyes. Before that look made Alec want to rip his hair out at the roots, now at least he has some tolerance for it. "He seemed plenty upset when we told him about your paintings." 

She has a point. Alec can still remember that now, how they had to stop Magnus from portaling to Idris alone to give Maryse a piece of his mind on her parenting (a maybe a nice curse to top it off). Though, he had mostly seemed upset that he didn't even know Alec painted until they told him Maryse combed through the Institute and destroyed every painting and drawing Alec ever had. He'd even offered to try to do some magic to fix them, at least bring the idea of the image back so Alec could replicate it, but his mother had been thorough and not even Magnus' power could bring them back. 

Ever since then Clary had been on this whole trip to Idris idea herself. He wonders if part of the reason Clary is so passionate is that she's an artist herself, a shared interest between them.

So, yeah. Alec could see Magnus helping Clary to portal to Idris to confront his mother. But even vaguely threatening someone high up could get you in hot water in the Clave, and given their current circumstances Alec would prefer not to risk it. 

"He'll be even more upset if you get arrested. I doubt he wants to represent one of us in court again." Alec shudders at the memory of the trial. "If you got arrested, I'd have to cancel our date." 

Clary huffs, confident expression slipping into annoyance. Right on cue, Isabelle snaps her fingers. "He's got you there." 

They round the corner together, the three of them taking up most of the walkway in the Institute halls, and into the main room. Shadowhunters of all kinds are running around, getting ready for missions, and filling out reports. In the midst of it Alec immediately spots Magnus, standing out as a spot of glittering color against a sea of black. 

"Doesn't hurt to ask!" Clary gleefully calls out, dropping Isabelle's arm to sprint forward before Alec can reach out to grab her. He quickly follows, cursing her all the way. Desperately, he watches as she easily slips through the crowd while he seems to get stuck behind every single person in the building. She easily makes it to Magnus while Alec practically trips over a smaller Shadowhunter, who had decided to dart across the room to avoid traffic. 

When Alec rights himself he can see Clary animatedly talking to Magnus, and given the way he's grinning at her Alec is pretty sure she's close to winning him over. 

Sensing his disappointment, Isabelle walks up to him and loops their arms together as she did with Clary. "There, there, dear brother." Isabelle coos as she leads them forward, people now parting for the pair of them. "Clary might be cute, but you're  _much_ cuter to Magnus." 

"If you're saying I have to charm Magnus to agree with me, I'm more screwed than I thought." Alec grumbles the words, shoulders hunching in on himself. 

Isabelle laughs, a sweet sound that has Alec wanting to smile despite himself. "Just bat your eyelashes a bit, trust me." 

Bat his eyelashes? He blinks a few time in rapid succession without meaning too -- as if trying it out. He's almost positive he's never "batted his eyelashes" at anyone before. 

Magnus' grin is even wider when Alec and Isabelle walk up. Clary's still talking, making her argument in such a passionate tone Alec wouldn't be surprised if she were talking about marching on Idris instead. Magnus doesn't seem to pay any mind, though. His eyes immediately drift over to Alec, gaze softening. Alec finds himself smiling back at him. 

Aware she's practically being ignored now, Clary cuts herself off with a huff. But she doesn't look too annoyed, so Alec can't really be bothered to care. 

"Alexander," the name rolls off Magnus' tongue like honey and Alec can't help but shiver. His eyes flicker over to Isabelle for a second. "Isabelle. I must say, given the time of my visit, I wasn't expecting to run into you two. Not that I'm complaining, of course." 

Alec hadn't expected to run into Magnus either. He'd already texted earlier that he wouldn't be able to stop by today with back to back patrol. Then a few of the newer Shadowhunters had been order to replace them in order to get used to the New York landscape, leaving the three of them with not much to do in the few hours left of the day. 

So, of course, Clary decided to dedicate that time into trying to find the quickest way to cause trouble. 

"Ah, we- we got called off today." Alec hates how he stumbles over his words. No matter how much easier it is to talk to Magnus now, he doubts he'll fully ever get used to it. "What are you doing here?"

Well, damn. That came out ruder than intended. 

Magnus just smiles, as if able to tell Alec's intentions. He's reassured Alec the other day that he isn't a mind reader -- Alec doesn't quite believe him. "Oh, I got called in to take another look at the wards." 

"Again?" Isabelle's smile falters, letting go of Alec's arms to cross her own. "Didn't they just call you in the other day?" 

"It seems my abilities aren't completely trusted  around here." Magnus hides his bitterness better than Alec would be able to. 

"Well,  _we_ believe in your abilities." Clary speaks up, trying to sound as nonchalant as possible. It isn't working. "And I think a good showing of you abilities with magic would be-"

Isabelle holds in a snicker as Alec groans. "Clary, please, just stop. You've been on this for an hour, give it a rest." 

"I'll give it a rest after I get back from Idris." Clary huffs out the words and as much he appreciates her intentions he's  _seriously_ considering locking Clary in his room until his mother leaves Idris. 

"Speaking of which," Magnus cuts off Alec's reply as he steps forward. His shoulders and hips sway as he moves. "What did spur this on? I haven't seen you this determined since," his expression scrunches up as he rethinks his words "since Maryse left for Idris." 

"We just got notice from the Clave that our mother has returned from the Mumbai Institute." Isabelle explains, tone flattening. "They don't know if she'll be visiting here soon or not." 

Before all this it was normal for them to get notice on their mother's visits. Now they're sure she goes out of her way to keep them uninformed. 

"And I'd rather...talk about this without her knowing I'm coming." 

"Right. Please  _don't_ storm my mother as soon as she walks through the door." Isabelle offers a sweet smile as a plea. Something in Clary's eyes soften. For a brief second Alec thinks they can finally drop all this and get back to important stuff. 

"That's why I have to go. So I  _won't_ do that." 

" _Clary,"_ Alec glares, tone sharp. "You're not going to Idris. That's final." 

Clary returns his glare with no real heat in it, not like she used to, lip jutting out just slight enough to be a pout. It reminds him of Isabelle. He doesn't let himself think about what that could mean. 

"I don't know, darling." Magnus drags out the pet name, tone light. He holds up a hand and wiggles his fingers, blue sparks dancing along his finger tips. Close enough that Alec can feel a slight buzz on his skin. Alec can imagine the colored pencils he'd use to recreate the picture. "It'd be an easy task. A quick portal to Idris and back; hardly any effort and no one would have to know." 

No matter how much he wants to be, Alec can't be annoyed with Magnus joining in on everyone's antics. "Well, if you're so busy with this, then I guess you won't have time for out date this weekend." 

"Sorry, biscuit," the words leave Magnus in a rush. In a grand gesture he spins on his heel to face Clary. "I just don't seem to have the time." 

"S'not fair... using dates as blackmail..." Clary mumbles under her breath. She looks away and drags the toe of her boot against the floor. 

"Come on." Isabelle does snicker now, walking forward to take Clary's hand. "We'd do the same. I know what will cheer you up. See you boys later," she throws the last remark over her shoulder as she leads Clary back to her room. 

"It's good to see them still getting along. Despite circumstances." Magnus sounds like he's trying to be casual as he steps closer to Alec. 

Alec in turn finds himself leaning closer, pulled in by some personal gravity Magnus seems to radiate. "That's putting it mildly," he snorts, but still smiles. 

It isn't hard to see the way Isabelle and Clary have grown closer after Jace, even if they were already pretty close before. Sometimes he wonders if they even bother to sleep in separate rooms at this point. Distantly, Alec wonders how many people in the Institute have been able to put tow and two together and how many still believe Clary stayed in Isabelle's room for some innocent "girl time". 

He opens his mouth, trying to find the words to say something sweet. Maybe he can compliment Magnus' glittery eyeshadow (it is very pretty, but Alec's pretty sure he's already used up all the ways one could complement eyeshadow) or say how much he's missed him. But the words get stuck in his throat. Almost two months of dating and he can't even compliment Magnus. 

And then it hits him they're standing in the middle of the Institute. And while he may have been brave enough to kiss Magnus in front of practically the whole Clave, it seems to be a different thing to compliment him in front of a few dozen shadowhunters. The words die altogether before they can even think of getting out. 

Magnus still smiles --  _mind reading!_ Alec's thoughts scream for a second -- and he doesn't spare the people around them a glance. "Well, my work is all done. Walk me out?" He nods towards the front doors. 

Oh. Yeah. Magnus has to leave. The reminder crashes around Alec, halting his steadily growing good mood. 

"Right- right." Alec gives a sharp, jerky nod. His hands hover for a second, unsure what to do with themselves, before lamely falling to his sides. 

They walk side by side through the Institute, ignoring distasteful side eyes and confused glances thrown their way. Magnus keeps his head held high, Alec feels like he's free falling. They end up making it to the door without any incidences -- the first time they'd tried it a relatively new Shadowhunter had tried to ask what on Earth Alec was doing with a  _Downworlder._ More often than not they'll hear comments uttered just a bit too loud to be considered whispers. Glares were relatively tame and Alec felt a slight sense of relief at the slow progress they seemed to be making. 

Cold autumn air flows between them as Alec opens the Institute door. Alec glances between Magnus and the outside, wondering what exactly he's supposed to do. Say goodbye? Giving him a goodbye kiss seems way too much, he's just started doing that after dates. Magnus' apartment and the New York Institute are completely different. Just ushering Magnus out feels wrong though... 

Oh. 

Magnus gives a little head nod to the outside, a subtle  _"follow me"._ Well, good, no real pressure. He can't fuck this up now, so he can breath a little easier as he follows Magnus out the door. It slams shut with a powerful bang, a small itch in the back of Alec's mind tells him to check if it's locked. 

"Alexander." Magus starts, tone different than before. Before it was flirty, teasing, glad to see him. Now it was soft, like they were sharing a secret. A sad, sad secret. "How are you doing? Is everything," he spares a glance to where Alec's Parabatai rune is burned into his skin, "alright?" 

Alec shifts his weight brining up his arms to cross them. He can't quite meet Magnus' eyes. "It's... fine. It's just been Isabelle, Clary, and I and it- it doesn't hurt as much as before." He forces the words out. He refuses to talk about it with anyone but Magnus and Isabelle. "And you? How are you holding up?" 

 While Alec tries to reign his expression in, Magnus has no qualms about showing his distaste for the situation. Even while a frown tugs at his lips and his eyebrows scrunch in worry, Alec's pulse jumps at the way he scrunches his nose. "Oh, not much change. I haven't found any warlocks who would be willing to come out of hiding. Few respond to my fire messages and I've gotten some awful reactions to trying to meet in person." He gives a drawn out sigh. 

Alec's teeth dig into his bottom lip. "Maybe if Valentine keeps lying low like he has..." 

"Perhaps," Magnus nods. "But I doubt that a few weeks of peace will calm their paranoia." He blinks, eyes suddenly a million miles away. Just as Alec goes to ask where he is, he snaps back with a small smile. "I'll figure it out. How are things with your mother? Based on Clary today I can't guess good things." 

He can physically feel his expression flatline. "Still haven't spoken to her." He refuses to try and she hasn't bothered to send any fire messages. "Isabelle tried to, but only to try to figure out what she did with my paint. Probably flushed them down the drain or something." 

Magnus' expression darkens, even as he tries to keep it light for Alec's sake. "Have you gone out to get any more supplies while she's gone?" 

Why does everyone keep asking that? Clary had been the first, even offering some of her few supplies for him to use. Then Isabelle suggested a shopping trip. Now Magnus. 

"No," Alec replies quickly, arms falling to his sides. "There's- there's  _more important_ stuff to focus on. What kind of leader would I be if I holed myself up in my room, drawing, while Valentine is still out there? While Jace is still... It's like you said, the warlocks are paranoid, and I know they're not the only ones. We should be focused on stopping Valentine." 

 "Everyone needs a break, Alexander." Magnus looks as tired as Alec feels. "Even leaders of a very important Institute. Don't burn yourself out." As he says this he reaches out, taking one of Alec's hands. Metal rings comfortingly press into his skin. He can see bright pink nail polish adorning Magnus' fingertips, glowing even in the quickly dimming light of evening. He feels more at center than he has all week. 

Alec shivers and it has nothing to do with the crisp air around them. 

 _I'll take a break when we find Jace,_ he can't bring himself to say it out loud. "I'm fine, Magnus." In return, Magnus gives a rather unimpressed expression. Alec makes a show out of rolling his eyes, the corner of his eyes twitching up into the start of a smile. "Alright. Alright. How about I stop by your place this weekend and take a few hours off?" 

Magnus' smile is blinding and Alec's heart wheezes in his chest. "That sounds perfect, darling." His thumb gently rubs over the back of Alec's hand before he pulls away. 

Alec wants to reach out, protest and pull Magnus back in, but with the sudden lack of warmth he realizes how the cold has already settled into his body. He's been out here too long already and it's just a matter of time before someone pokes their head out to see just see what they're getting up to. 

"See you then?" Alec offers, shoving his hands in his pockets now that he has nothing to do with them. 

"Of course." Magnus' smile turns gentle for half a moment before he turns, holding his hands up, blue flames crackling in the midst of his palms. 

Suddenly, as the portal springs into existence, Alec knows exactly what he wants to say. "Magnus," Alec speaks up, surprisingly stead with his words. Magnus turns, a question in his eyes. "You too. Don't- don't overwork yourself, I mean." 

He knows the work Magnus has been doing. Sending constant fire messages, portaling himself around the world to meet with other warlocks, trying to build a following against Valentine. Then having to portal back to New York to completely his many other jobs that naturally come with his status. Alec may be busy as acting head of the Institute, but Magnus is  _busy_ as The High Warlock of Brooklyn. Recently Alec has been given glimpses of how hard Magnus works himself. 

There's an almost biter kind of humor in Magnus' eyes, but also, maybe, surprise? Alec can't exactly tell. "I'll do my best." And then he turns and vanishes, the portal dissipating into a rain of purple and blue. 

Alec stares at where Magnus once stood, letting the conversation fully sink in. And then he can't feel his fingers and decides it'd be better to go inside then stand out here like an idiot. He turns his head back inside, glancing over his shoulder, as if he'd get another glimpse of Magnus, and narrowly avoids walking face first into the front door. 

 

 

Three days later Alec ends up in Magnus' loft as promised. What he doesn't expect is to spot an easel, set up next to the too talk windows of the loft in a place that could be easily overlooked. When Alec asks when Magnus got into painting he replies he hasn't and completely ignores the easel and blank canvas as he brings Alec a drink. 

 

 

There's a warmth pressed against Alec's side. It would be distracting, if not for the fact that he's been aching for the familiar touch for so long he's almost been driven insane. So he tries not to move too much as he paints strokes of bright colors, feeling calmer than he has in months. 

Alec knows Jace didn't mean to nod off, and he's expecting for Jace to get pretty pissed at himself for doing so. He'd made such a big deal out of watching Alec paint for the first time after getting back, Alec almost feels bad about continuing. But, he's in the zone, and is willing to deal with Jace moping around the rest of the day if it means he finally finishes this painting.

He spares a glance down at his Parabatai and adjusts the shade of yellow he's using.

The room they're in is large and open, one wall is just a window and is letting a constant stream of light. It turns the creme colored walls a glowing white and the hardwood floor soft. Paintings and drawings, both on walls and on easels, adorn the room. They glow with different mixtures of colors, telling different stories. It makes the room smell like fresh paper and acrylics.

One half of the room is full of Alec's paintings. They slowly progress over time from dull shades of color mixed with grey to bright images that shine in the daylight. All of them are brand new and all were painted here. The other half of the room is full of Clary's paintings. Some painted here, others at the Institute. 

The two halves are so separated it's almost like a line has been drawn across the floor, but the only way to tell if the different in style. 

Alec hadn't said much about Magnus buying an easel and a few canvases, but when Magnus supplied a whole room dedicated to it and so much supplies it looked like it could last a lifetime? If it wasn't a well timed birthday gift then he would have completely protested. Instead, he gaped as Magnus showed him the room and wondered why on earth Magnus would do this. Convert a whole room in his loft just for Alec. 

A few months later and Alec gets it a bit more, understanding day by day. But sometimes he's still thrown off by how  _much_ it is. It became easier to handle when Clary and Isabelle started using it too. There's something almost comforting about painting with someone else in the room. 

Jace shifts from his spot against Alec's side and mumbles something under his breath. Their bond tingles, but for once in a very long time not in pain. In reassurance. Now that they're together again, something inside Alec has settled. He can feel it settling inside Jace as well.

Alec lets his brush drag across the canvas in a long, golden stroke.  

This particular painting has been half finished for so long happiness floods Alec that he can finally finish. It's one of everyone. Even the vampires -- which for some reason Alec couldn't bare to leave out. All of them, in the living room of Magnus' loft in various positions, but all together. 

The background had been easy to do -- Alec practically lives here now so it's not hard to picture, plus he just has to glance out the door -- and most everyone had been easy to add. But when he'd even just try to sketch out Jace, he'd panic. Panic with the concern that maybe he couldn't remember how Jace looked. That his pictures were somehow wrong and he'd be stuck with an incorrect image forever. 

He doesn't worry now. He just has to glance down to reassure himself, so the painting is almost finished. 

From outside the open door he can hear Isabelle laugh loudly, followed by softer giggles from Clary. Raphael shouts something in Spanish, most likely at Luke by his tone. All of them spending time here is a relatively new thing, but Magnus doesn't seem to mind, so Alec doesn't feel guilt when everyone follows him here.

He hears shuffling from the hall and glances up, still completely relaxed, which is really saying something. Magnus walks into view, leaning against the doorway. He glows in the soft light of the room. Blue shimmers down his chest and in his hair, and his skin gleams silver with jewelry.  

Magnus smiles, gaze soft and full of an emotion he can't yet name. He'll be able to soon. What can realize in this moment, though, is that Magnus is happy. Magnus is happy for Alec. Happy for Alec's family. He beams back at Magnus, the action coming more naturally than he ever thought it could. 

The chatter sounds like it's getting closer. The party does seem to follow Magnus wherever he goes. Jace mumbles under his breath again and Alec can already see what's going to happen. Everyone will somehow crowd into the room together, even though it's big enough to fit everyone easily. They'll go around looking at the new paintings and some of the old before stopping at what Alec is working on. It'll wake Jace up, who will complain rather loudly about several things, but that won't stop his sister and Clary especially from getting an up close look. 

Alec turns back to his painting, determined to finish it today. 

"Alec!" Isabelle practically shouts as she hurries in. "Are you done yet? Let me get a look!" 

Suddenly he sees a flash of brown curls before being enveloped by his sister's hug. 


End file.
